Tess frowned at the glint in my palm. “That’s the dare?”
I chuckled. “Nope. That’s the foreplay.”
She bit her lip. Her hands fell into the fountain of grey around her body. “Not this, Q. It’s too beautiful.”
The room was kissed by gentle light, making shadows come alive, morphing into creatures of the night scurrying over the white carpet, darting behind the curtains. I tilted my head, purring, “It will look even more beautiful in pieces.” I wanted the floor to emulate the gravesite of destroyed clothing just like the day I’d caught her cutting up the items I’d given when she first arrived.
Tess spread her legs a little, balancing in her sexy strappy heels. My eyes dropped to her delicate toes peeking, her calf muscles taut. “I want you in nothing else but those heels wrapped around my shoulders when I lick you.”
Tess swallowed hard, her eyes glazing with need.
“I can do whatever I want to you, your dress….Why is that, Tess?”
“Parce que, je suis à toi.” Because, I’m yours.
A rumble crept up my chest. “You have no idea how much I love you speaking French. It makes me so hard. So fucking hard.”
My unbuttoned trousers didn’t give any relief to the throbbing in my cock. I wanted to skip foreplay and sink deep inside her. I wanted her screaming as I raced to the orgasm coiling in my blood. But first…I wanted to torment.
Looping my fingers through the scissor handles, I asked softly, “Do you remember what I did with these?”
Tess’s eyes locked onto the silver scissors, her cheeks flushing with memories.
“Do you remember me cutting you? Slicing off your clothes that night before I took you over the bed? I hit you hard but you came harder. That was the moment I knew. The moment I knew you craved pain like I needed to inflict it.”
“Yes. I remember,” she panted. Her chest pinked, casting her white skin with the tempting shade. Her gaze shot to mine, bright and feverish. Was it the fear of where I would fuck her tonight or the martinis?
I hoped it was the fear.
“Are you drunk, esclave?”
She shook her head, hypnotising me with her blonde tresses rippling over her shoulders. “No. I was tipsy before, but now…now I’m drunk on other things.”
My cock thickened. Snipping the metal blades, I pressed the cool bite against Tess’s neck where the dress tied at the back. Her breathing quickened. She swayed, but made no move to stop me.
Holding eye contact, I cut the halter. I shuddered with longing as the material freed, drooping down her front. The swell of her breasts made my mouth water. I wanted to bite her. I wanted to see my teeth marks in her pale tender flesh.
“Dare, Tess.”
She wobbled on her feet as I trailed the tips of the scissors over the tops of her breasts, dipping possessively into her cleavage. She moaned, flinching from the prick of the blade.
“You dare me to let you cut off my clothes?” She shrugged, shivering as I did another cut. “You clearly don’t need my permission, maître.”
I smiled, deliberately dragging the sharp tips up from her cleavage, transfixed by the red welt I left behind—I didn’t break the skin, but Tess was so sensitive, flushed with blood. “That’s not the dare,” I murmured.
Her gaze swirled with confusion. “What is then?”
“How many times you’ll let me cut you.” A full body shiver rippled through my muscles at the sick sentence. I should be repulsed, embarrassed by my need to mark her—especially because she let me brand her—but I wasn’t. I’d told her the ‘Q’ sigil stopped those urges.
I lied.
I still needed the power over her mortal body. I needed to see her bleed for me, cry for me.
Her eyelashes flared wide as her pupils dilated—half with panic, half with lust. “How many times?” Rocking back, trying to avoid the ever steady snip down the centre of her dress, she hesitated. “Cut my dress as much as you want—leave me skin alone.”
I shook my head. “That’s not the dare.” Slicing again, the tightness of the bodice started to loosen, revealing the purple lace cupping Tess’s beautiful fucking breasts.
Her hands opened and closed, trying unsuccessfully to hide her nerves. “You’re not playing the game correctly.”
I snipped hard, deliberately catching the soft sensitive skin just below her bra line. “Oh no…how terrible of me.”
Snip.
It was my way of cutting into her shell, carving an entry into her heart. I pushed the sharp tip into her bra, circling her nipple.
Her stomach rose and fell with every millimetre.
My cock literally burned to be inside her. Every tiny movement made my balls tighten and snarl against the prison of my trousers. Was it the alcohol coaxing me to reckless sensitivity or the knowledge of where I’d be filling Tess tonight?
I didn’t really care if it was the whiskey. Tonight she was mine. All of her.
“You don’t ask me how many times. You dare me.” Her eyes smouldered. “So, master…how many times do you dare me to bleed for you?”
Fuck. Me.
The beast instead howled at the delicious fucking question. So brutal. So unpretentious. Grabbing the back of her neck, I kissed her like a savage animal intent on drinking her soul.
Her hands came up, pushing against my chest as I plunged my tongue past her lips, giving her no choice but to open wide and receive.
Her touch seared my skin beneath my shirt; her roaming fingertips crept up my chest, running hot along my collarbone.
Then she ripped the material, sending buttons pinging and air rushing against my tattooed torso.
Her teeth captured my bottom lip, somehow taking control of the kiss for a second before I lost my cool and slammed her backward, upward, and onto the bed.
The air flew from her lungs into mine. I pinned her down with my fingers around her throat. “Three. I dare you to do three.”
Her lips were swollen and red and so, so wet from our kiss.
She arched up, forcing her vulnerable neck into my fingers. Her breathing turned ragged. “Four. I dare you to do four.”
Oh, my fucking God, what was she doing? Now was not the night to fight back—now was definitely not the time to make me lose the rest of my fractured control.
Something skittered in her eyes before hiding in their grey depths. I reared onto my elbows, releasing her neck. “Why?” Suspicion chased hot through my veins.
She looked away, but I grabbed her chin. “What do you dare in return?”
Her body stiffened, but her gaze locked with mine. “I dare you not to take my anal virginity tonight. Give me more time.”
My stomach gnashed with livid teeth. “That’s your dare? You’re so damn afraid of something I guarantee will bring you pleasure.”
My imagination stole reality giving me a snuff movie of erotic torture.
Her crying as I slid into her for the first time.
Her thighs and cheeks glowing from my spanks.
Taking her ass with my cock, while filling her pussy with a quivering vibrator.
My hands curled at that vision. I ached to fill her with my cock and a vibrator all at once. I wanted her stretched and overly full. I wanted her to know exactly who she belonged to.
Flipping her onto her stomach, I hoisted up her skirts and snipped with silver scissors at her knickers. They fell away, leaving her ass perfectly bare, the glisten of arousal slick between her legs.
She jolted as I pressed a finger against her clit, dragging the tip through her wet folds and up to the one place she denied me.
My cock pulsed with the first wave of pre-cum as she rolled her hips, trying to dislodge my touch. She was so tight, so shy, so fucking amazing.